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"sequester" poems
As mother nature's Punitive measure Against a society In maintaining The statuesque That doesn't bother, Our rivers Had become subject To a water thirst, To the extent Of projecting Rocky ribs Terrifyingly protruded out For easy count! But now thanks to The all-out, terrace making And reafforestation effort Of each catchment Farmers have made a point And also  to the afforestation Move of the government Rivers aside from quenching Their insatiable thirst Have resumed To brim over With floods Drinking water To their hearts' content. Our forests once stripped of Their wooded cover Have started, fast, to recover From afar they are seen Robed eye-catching green From a fry-pan sky Allowing a shelter Also busy Carbon to sequester. Wild animals That migrated Have preferred Back their way to find. Now farmers don't have Deep to dig To sink a water well Or find a nearby spring. Birds are heard chirruping Be it winter, summer or spring, While Brooks bubbling. Buzzing and hovering From this to that flower Bees are producing Organic honey by the hour. Promising a bumper harvest Farmer's plots have Fortunately continued To resuscitate! Those leaving Their denuded abode behind Away, who preferred To stay 'We will return back home soon! ' Is what They  say. Happily enough Mother nature Affords us a second chance Imbued with Environment stewardship If  we are willing to mend Our wrong 'Feast today famine tomorrow! ' stance. To dispel the spectre Of climate change And systematically face The global challenge True to the adage 'We have either to swim together or sink together! ' Hence in fighting the challenge Or adapting to the change Back scratching, We have to be on the same page. Indeed, irrigation must Not slip our mind For erratic rainfall A  lasting solution If we must find.// Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this #change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
Fortunately it resuscitates
As mother nature's Punitive measure Against a society In maintaining The statuesque That doesn't bother, Our rivers Had become subject To a water thirst, To the extent Of projecting Rocky ribs Terrifyingly protruded out For easy count! But now thanks to The all-out, terrace making And reafforestation effort Of each catchment Farmers have made a point And also  to the afforestation Move of the government Rivers aside from quenching Their insatiable thirst Have resumed To brim over With floods Drinking water To their hearts' content. Our forests once stripped of Their wooded cover Have started, fast, to recover From afar they are seen Robed eye-catching green From a fry-pan sky Allowing a shelter Also busy Carbon to sequester. Wild animals That migrated Have preferred Back their way to find. Now farmers don't have Deep to dig To sink a water well Or find a nearby spring. Birds are heard chirruping Be it winter, summer or spring, While Brooks bubbling. Buzzing and hovering From this to that flower Bees are producing Organic honey by the hour. Promising a bumper harvest Farmer's plots have Fortunately continued To resuscitate! Those leaving Their denuded abode behind Away, who preferred To stay 'We will return back home soon! ' Is what They  say. Happily enough Mother nature Affords us a second chance Imbued with Environment stewardship If  we are willing to mend Our wrong 'Feast today famine tomorrow! ' stance. To dispel the spectre Of climate change And systematically face The global challenge True to the adage 'We have either to swim together or sink together! ' Hence in fighting the challenge Or adapting to the change Back scratching, We have to be on the same page. Indeed, irrigation must Not slip our mind For erratic rainfall A  lasting solution If we must find.// Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this #change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
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91
amidst Jeffersonian opulence the Prez broke bread with his GOP poker face friends to solve government gridlock and sequester predicament trends citizens of the republic hopeful for nonsense to cease sat at the table asking “would you pass the biscuits please?” Obama perused the wine list boldly choosing a luscious Merlot senators ordered the finest hors d'oeuvres the guests were all aglow numerous delectable dishes were liberally splayed on the table revelers sipped flowing vintages wine a surefire icebreaker sparkling crystal Lennox flutes tinkled with convivial release while America’s disenfranchised voices ask “would you pass the biscuits please?” chutney meat, curried hens and sweet walnut rainbow trout the table a horn a plenty the guests gorged on fine cuisine a blessed nations bounty the feast consumed the Senators sated said it was some of the finest ever served but the taxpayers only got a peak of the banquet a whiff of senators nerve and asked “would you pass the biscuits please?” the dessert cart was rolled in with custards, cakes, creme brulee cordials, cognac and VSOP tastes rounded out the wholesome feast when the check was presented for payment all guests headed for the door with haste they told the waiter the bill of fare was covered by the guy asking... “would you pass the biscuits please?” Music Selection: Andre Williams: Pass The Biscuits Please jbm Oakland 3/7/13
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Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Pass the Biscuits Please
Oh this feeling, the way you make me feel is naught but solid and true. Ever present, and always makes me feel slightly delusional, it sometimes falters, but is widely consistent. Theres a shift in the weather, a difference in the air, its something of a sweeter aroma, delightful to the senses. Its calming, giving rise to these joyful fantasies, but they are sometimes taken to far, so I keep them penned up behind fences. There are adjectives plenty to describe you, and many qualities can be ascribed to your name. For your heart is golden, your words wise, your view on life is positive and difficult to thoroughly maintain. Your profound adoration for puppy, child, and rose Is much to blame for my insane admiration of you. Theres something about your personality that grows increasingly in such favour of something within you thats true. Ay, yes, Its true, theres something wonderful about you, It sees me through the deepest swells when I am blue. I could sit in your presence and be grieved by sorrowful news, and still you'd bring me comfort, and remedy my bout of the blues. Why do you hide away what beauty you possess, don't flaunt it true, but please don't sequester it. Make proud your heart in your beauty, as it pleases the eye, and makes glad the soul who cherishes it. I find myself laid low to the ground, when your hand lowered extends out toward me. I find myself happy and in the presence of love found and in my arms, is the person who sees me free. There is something in me that wants me to scream nothing of pain and agony, but in joy and profound happiness. For there is something in my life that whilst it may seem temporary, is the permanent source of so much joyfulness.
0
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
A poem for that Special Girl.
Oh this feeling, the way you make me feel is naught but solid and true. Ever present, and always makes me feel slightly delusional, it sometimes falters, but is widely consistent. Theres a shift in the weather, a difference in the air, its something of a sweeter aroma, delightful to the senses. Its calming, giving rise to these joyful fantasies, but they are sometimes taken to far, so I keep them penned up behind fences. There are adjectives plenty to describe you, and many qualities can be ascribed to your name. For your heart is golden, your words wise, your view on life is positive and difficult to thoroughly maintain. Your profound adoration for puppy, child, and rose Is much to blame for my insane admiration of you. Theres something about your personality that grows increasingly in such favour of something within you thats true. Ay, yes, Its true, theres something wonderful about you, It sees me through the deepest swells when I am blue. I could sit in your presence and be grieved by sorrowful news, and still you'd bring me comfort, and remedy my bout of the blues. Why do you hide away what beauty you possess, don't flaunt it true, but please don't sequester it. Make proud your heart in your beauty, as it pleases the eye, and makes glad the soul who cherishes it. I find myself laid low to the ground, when your hand lowered extends out toward me. I find myself happy and in the presence of love found and in my arms, is the person who sees me free. There is something in me that wants me to scream nothing of pain and agony, but in joy and profound happiness. For there is something in my life that whilst it may seem temporary, is the permanent source of so much joyfulness.
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32
Welcome my brother said one snowflake to another Let us paint the land with diamonds of white Let us put crisp in the air and blanket despair And brighten the hills with delight Welcome my brother said one snowflake to the other Let us widen the smiles of children enthralled And kindle the aged with their youth Let us vault from the clouds with a magical shroud Let us decorate every roof Welcome my brother said one snowflake to another Let us dance in the street and stick to the feet Of those frolicking in the snow Let us fill up the sky with a brilliant disguise And sequester the dark from the glow Welcome my brother said one snowflake to the other Let us cover the streets with glorious sheets Until the blackness comes up melting through This is the end said the snowflake to his friend And I’m happy to melt here with you.
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Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 6:25 AM UTC
From One Snowflake to Another
War paint I always found unnecessary: Gloss for manicured lipstick commercial princesses Not of my kind. And though I walk with shield, I am without armour: Ramparts mere cheekbones, Bare skin impressionable as snow. Boot-print, The mark I hated. My characters: Frail tree rings, exposed to the chill night air. Gold inlay frozen solid. The fairly bound dream factory Lies purple with melancholy. It’s the world’s bruise. It colours sudden, Shadowing the other side of the room Where it paused, rare moth Lighted upon my dark reflection, A Mona Lisa dressed in black And reminiscent of bobby sox. Beauty without fanfare. Stuff of woods: we do not glitter. We don’t call out. Our tongues are both dumbstruck bells. Shy rabbits, we fold within ourselves And sequester our secret pulp.
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Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
Dumbstruck
These old doors, sullen as spinsters. Wharves, deckhands, the old chopping block: flights of time misremembered in a backward gaze. Toes in water. Hooks to fish. The sea salty. How shall I count the ways... lost among the waves. But look, afar, the old man on his boat! Is he Charon come to point the way to the seaward lost; or has he come to sequester memory to some far shore? (Maybe he's a schmuck with a paddle!) Seagulls, feathers, the brine: all groan with this wood. In this wood was the line that snatched life from the water (the fish, the scales—they shine) and flopped on the deck, heterocercal. The evening closes on this vista but not the charades of time.
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Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
Not Broadway
Stranger to earth, to her body, to the church. I often wondered how she could remain stoic as her blood licked the grass blades at our feet, the moth falling with her finger, drowning with my grief into the ring of fire. How far can one go, she asked me, to live without participating in the circus, to resist clowns, to not register pain, family, injustice, rain. Look, I said, they endure, the sound, the visuals, the memory – episodic, yes, but they endure – people would not forgive bystander. The moth fell again, shuddering, struggling. And her finger, gushing with golden blood, was still pointing at the priestess, who smiled, and said, you decide, it’s your body. To sequester, draw a line on the snow, better with blood, but tears would suffice too – and so the stranger was repeatedly created and destroyed.
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Jun 11, 2021
Jun 11, 2021 at 5:49 AM UTC
Stranger
Thorns in the hearts of millions and fear in the minds of billions. Heard across the whispers of machines, spoken to the minds of onlookers. Entrances carved into the souls of children by myriad opinions. Young ones engraved with a memory, reared to despise terror as one would hookers. Advance the agenda. Propaganda distributed; phones, theaters, televisions alight. Losing our souls to the terror, we huddle in our whining and dining rooms. Lips loose and battering what we don't understand, they're the terrors! Don't you understand? Destitute is reason in the fanatics worlds away, yet in our very homes. Encouraged to make poor our own empathy, as we seek them out. Solace lost on our tongues we devour them, mercy removed from our bones. Everyone knows we have to get them first, right? Right. There's no other route. Right is confused with fear. They've made us just like them. Just like them. Vie for change! Do it all you want, but you can't change them, not with sinful might... Entrance them with modernity, educate them, sequester them, it's a farce, a problem. Aren't we the beasts? Shooting missiles from a, "Wicked City," televisions alight. Grand mess we've made, hypocrisy ten miles high, sin ten miles deep. Right. Where were we? Who shot last? Compare past to past, continue the fight. Already we're planning, where to strike next? Whack the hive, make 'em weep. Vanishing like shadows in all-encompassing light the terrors disappear. "'Enraging us again,' coming soon!" the sequel should be good next year.
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Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
Five Points Of Terror...
Thorns in the hearts of millions and fear in the minds of billions. Heard across the whispers of machines, spoken to the minds of onlookers. Entrances carved into the souls of children by myriad opinions. Young ones engraved with a memory, reared to despise terror as one would hookers. Advance the agenda. Propaganda distributed; phones, theaters, televisions alight. Losing our souls to the terror, we huddle in our whining and dining rooms. Lips loose and battering what we don't understand, they're the terrors! Don't you understand? Destitute is reason in the fanatics worlds away, yet in our very homes. Encouraged to make poor our own empathy, as we seek them out. Solace lost on our tongues we devour them, mercy removed from our bones. Everyone knows we have to get them first, right? Right. There's no other route. Right is confused with fear. They've made us just like them. Just like them. Vie for change! Do it all you want, but you can't change them, not with sinful might... Entrance them with modernity, educate them, sequester them, it's a farce, a problem. Aren't we the beasts? Shooting missiles from a, "Wicked City," televisions alight. Grand mess we've made, hypocrisy ten miles high, sin ten miles deep. Right. Where were we? Who shot last? Compare past to past, continue the fight. Already we're planning, where to strike next? Whack the hive, make 'em weep. Vanishing like shadows in all-encompassing light the terrors disappear. "'Enraging us again,' coming soon!" the sequel should be good next year.
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20
Glass in my windows rattled So furious was the birth. Once over, peace more Serene in face of wrath We had seen. All who saw regarded In awe fresh beauty - Time did stop, and sound. We saw wonder in newness, Familiar land transformed To heaven's purity - Then set out to to sequester innocence, Sacrificed to our convenience. We moved and pushed Poisoned and cursed, Rallied weapons to beat it. So now Snow looks like us Broken, finally defeated; Grey, scarred and ugly, Age taking shares by day, Life by slow trickles Ebbing away, Long since lost of purpose.
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Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 4:59 PM UTC
Coming of Age
I wonder ivy, ever green embracing faces no longer seen were better tribute to love immortal than fragrant blossoms strewn on soil; too soon they loose their hues, perfumes, becoming dust like those they'd honor, when life's the thing we thought was cherished - then remind us only flesh will perish but love attaches to the stars and lives forever in our hearts so never work to mark my path     with stones nor earth, for they will pass, erode of tears and sighs of heaven that earth should suffer my disruption, her milk I’d stolen might sequester locked in darkness forever from her rather, vest me in some far off light that twinkles in the dark of night, thy wistful eyes to visit there and meet my love’s returning stare
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Oct 16, 2010
Oct 16, 2010 at 7:29 PM UTC
Everlasting
21st Century contraption of a mind , snatched from birth , taught how to "Walk the Line , " Hammered into conformity , Play Doh brains pressed in a mold , dressed , plopped on a conveyor , not one piece out of place .. Our State cores a whole , pours a mandatory twelve years of robot ideology between our ears , who we should emulate , who we should fear ..  Fed factory Farm swill , sequester our imaginations , zero tolerance , shot full of Ritalin ...
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Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
Assembly Line
November rolled down I-90 into this town with the year's first snow and wind I closed my mouth into a fading highway line: straight, short, horizontal as the grey stains shade its white. It's Wednesday night and the tunes inside my car underline a quiet month strained through these bars "What's the score?" say apartment walls empty seats tied with unreturned phone calls It stood that way last I took the tally on shivering walks' shortcuts through alleys This is just another rut walked into these roads where my unabashed feet and my aching toes can save my face some embarrassment when the bent skies straighten out this cracking pavement Just a little while later, look back to the Sun, gonna warm my face in the Winter dawn and shake off these somber streetsalt thoughts caught my friends on the rebound, we'll remember now caught my friends on the rebound, we'll remember now I'll be fine again come February. Line my stupid fears up, shade their eyes.
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
Sequester
The President assessed the scene and gave a terse command. His caddy grabbed his putter and put it in Obama’s hand. The breeze as not a factor The air was hot and still. The hole, a dozen feet away, blocked by a small windmill. Barrack needed this putt for par. to help him tie the score. Boehner got a hole in one in the clown face just before. Obama gave his ball a stroke- it veered wide, an inch or two. It’s a pity folks are watching Or he’d lie about that too. That he should be reduced to this; Playing at the “Pirate’s cove. The sequester is a right wing plot likely dreamed up by Karl Rove.
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Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC
King Putt
Infest for fest; instead fester. Rest yourself in steadfast sequester.
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Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
On Thoughts
This multiplying illness complexes this weariness Earieness steers for thou A three tier system is written In the hearts of despising old ******** Not soon yet Not after!!!! Climaxing evildoer's Initiate iniquities triangled love affair, Many go the distance Whilst the darers They dare!!!! Clean slates Thou wilt not find in a confine of magic fairy tale cells Im sick Combusted of all energies I feeleth that bursting flame Arising from hell!!!! Coffee beans Boil near by one!!! Some play on open courts Whilst others believe in freedom Of pistol range fun!!! No extinguisher To put out The volcanic smoke, Wiccans To quick ones No lighter to spark thine throat!!!! Pleasures are shamefully no fun here Even amongst thine own kind Thou art a diseased display Of settled bacteria!!! Hysteria Enters ones mind To rid him the pains of this life, Forget wrong and right!!!!!! Thou knoweth neither, Unborn one!!!!! Thou art a star of creation A leader of all nations The moon The earth The sun Captured beauty thou art!!!! Thou photographic film!!!
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Iniquities sequester
Sequester thee eternal sunshine. The hummingbird does not speak to me. Symbolizing a new beginning. Harmony brings Destiny. Doing the devil's work is heartless. He can believe liars to this day. For the biast lies about me the mediator had to say. I thought heresay was irrelevant. Her recommendations to the judge were sent. I was not chosen. My parental rights frozen. Demons in human form in the courtroom posing. Judge Gerald Jessop retired without remorse. His senseless verdicts concluded it's course. Who does he think he is to say or think how we deserve to be separated this way. At my side is the only place for Ariel to stay. To take a child from their mother as a baby & a little girl is not for their best interest. It was traumatizing enough everytime I had to leave just to work my shift. The judge & his minions at Madge Bradley Downtown can drink giraffe **** For what they did to my daughter & I's relationship The devil horned one of red flesh can escort them with his pitchfork to hell as a trip. Another sunrise they can skip. Some evil is so bad that not even fire can destroy it The natural order of things this way is meant. The biast liars be ****** & die endless torment.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Ignored & Hated
We are all demagogues in a world controlled by despots, A world where we have grown afraid to denude the powerful And sequester the impoverished under the sheets, A fear to stick it to the man rather stick with the man. Although it begins with one life, it ends with countless casualties. For our definition of what we believe is right, differs from what we believe is good. The foundation of good, for it is no universal language rather a universal dictum. With lessons unknown to all, simply comprehended by some. For only a handful selected by God occupy the hole the devil burned through. Leaving the delicious gift of persuasion on earth, awaiting the tasting intentions whether good or evil. Convinced by all with set beliefs while thy axioms remain unknown.
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Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
A Harsh Reality
The glistening snow sweats off the arms of the woods, The sun's warmth challenges the breeze, But the breeze knows how to get under my skin, The sun can only touch gently on the surface. And another thing: my mind is at ease, But it must be arousing to knead an angel in the doughy snow, Rather than strap on my boots, pack up my book bag, And to tune out the rest, put on my headphones, Playing songs to keep me stuck inside my head. Rather than grinding equations, Taking notes, Inspecting writing, Instead of analyzing one of these, I'd like to read glowing literature for my heart's sake. The best days begin and end like this. These days tranquilize me, Sequester cortisol from my brain, And quell thoughts of then, thoughts of tomorrow, thoughts of today, thoughts of when, thoughts of who, thoughts of why, thoughts of how, thoughts of you. So since you aren't here to feed my soul, And I can't read in this city's wretched cold, I'll tuck myself inside my bed, And burn my eyes on my phone screen instead.
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Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
These Days
Across the reflective fields of Hill Country grass begins to escape its icy enclosure ..Black Angus leave red clay impressions bound for green pastures ..Mourning doves wail their somber retreat as first light exposes the prequel to Heaven .. Blackbirds and smoke from morning bonfires alight , the promise of daylight is scented with Oak and Hickory as fields of cotton appear to ignite . Tin roofs begin to glow , church bells awake villages on the horizon . Golden waves pan Eastern skies , Sycamores sequester abundant sunshine ..Sparrows , Chickadees and Finches gossip without end , Bluejays and Brown thrashers command the fence line once again . Barbed wire enclosures divide the landscapes , dancing scrub Pines act as reeds , filtering the breeze with the music of natures continuity .. Blacktop drives ribbon the lonesome acreage , goat herds graze the property frontage . Quarter , Morgan and Appaloosas quietly graze against the backdrop of nineteenth century farm houses .. White silos and red barns , gourd birdhouses , dug wells and smokehouses ..Bantam roosters and hens sift through acorns beneath two hundred year old Water Oaks ..
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Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC
Song of Georgia
a union is granted a pie and cleanse their rye when a tunic can sequester mobs only cries in these houses pale crumbs as they succumb to climes in poles that keep their fry hush in throes and below the ground frowns peal the town as ice is temperately bound whether ponds here roast white supremacy as rhetoric was xenophobia and rose from their chaos now the national street that sought their limb and the financier in London
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Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
fish fry
Sequester me in your embrace tonight, Guide me through these troubled skies. Navigate with me through the stars so bright, Teach me how it feels to fly.
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
Flying With You
in this neo-classic house with their partition in glass that her reflexes still shine in their wilderness again that drives her tears in craft with time to sequester their burdens in this room with mirrors now he tread through this capillary with imaginary ***
0
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 8:06 AM UTC
Gwendoline
You once sat, in the palm of my hand told me love, was our home to share. Did I forget? You once raved, of my stellar cooking often looking where I couldn't see. Did I forget? I paced the hospital floor seeking an end to the anticipation of doom you couldn't fight. Did I forget? A long breath leaves you lost in the atmosphere you die alone in endless night. Did I forget! Did I forget that you made me? That you toiled for hours in the womb of love nursing the fractures I had when you found me?! Did I forget how you taught me symbols of communication that allowed you to understand me beyond the shallow shadows that I was so used to receiving as love? I must have forgotten? My heart must be rotten... Did I forget the taste of the salt on your lips, as if you were a boundless sea that would never drown me, or sequester me from light? I must have lost my mind, why! Why can one act unbind the seams of such a precious gift: the threads of love and the tome of truth! When I fell in love again, I must have forgotten, because for the first time in my wandering life I didn't know you anymore.
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Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 12:08 PM UTC
Did I forget?